


Girl in the Mirror

by Agentpeggicarter



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel TV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agentpeggicarter/pseuds/Agentpeggicarter
Summary: You don’t know what happened to Billy, one moment he was in your life, the next he was gone. Nobody has answers for you and, you're left dealing with the fall out all on your own.





	Girl in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by the song girl in the mirror by Jennifer Thomas which is what I imagine the reader hearing when she starts dancing.
> 
> I don’t exactly know when this takes place in the punisher series because I’m still trying to finish season two, but it’s something that was stuck in my head so I just wrote it, didn’t plan much else about it.

You smoothed out the front of your dress and approached the ballet barre at the mirror. It has been awhile since you allowed yourself an opportunity to dance, ever since Billy Russo disappeared you swore you would never step foot in the dance studio again, and yet here you were.

The barre was cold the minute you wrapped your fingers around it you remembered all the recitals Billy came to, the flowers he sent when he couldn’t make it, and the support he provided when you had doubts about dancing. He always loved your dancing, said it was one of the reason he fell in love with you, thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen which was saying a lot when you weren’t even that good.

_‘Always the harshest critic,’_  he would say when he caught you in the studio repeating the same part for the hundredth time because you had completely forgotten about the dinner date you had just stood him up on. He loved how the world seemed to fall away when you were dancing, how there was only you and the music.

You always thought Billy would be mad at you for standing him up, but he was anything if not understanding. He knew there was only one place you ever were and that was this studio, your home, like the shooting range was his. You both had activities that made you feel at easy, yours was just prettier and he needed something other than death in his life. Which is how he found himself falling for you.

You were everything he needed after the war. Someone who laughed and cried. Who didn’t speak with words but expressed themselves through dance. It was like your dancing allowed Billy to feel things he hadn’t felt in years, to accept his past, something he had spent most of his life killing to forget.

That’s why he was never upset that you would miss the occasional dinner or two, because your dream of being an amazing ballerina were now his dreams.

It didn’t matter if you tried to make it up to him, because Billy wouldn’t have it, he would just smile and ask you to show him what you had learned and you were always happy to show him your new moves. Sometimes you couldn’t even finish a turn before his hands were on you and his mouth covered yours and suddenly dinner was no longer an issue.

_‘I love the spark you get when you dance, it makes you look so alive. It’s one of the many things I love about you.’_

You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes and quickly fought against them. You were tired, tired of crying, tired of showing everyone that you were okay when you were slowly dying inside.

Your knuckles tighten over the barre at all the people offering you sympathy and condolences as if Billy were dead. Who were they? Friends from work who didn’t give a damn about him till now, people who only talked to him in passing. You had never met half these people and yet here they were telling you they were here if you ever needed anything.

Lies. Liars. Every single one of them.

You pushed away from the barre and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was perfectly pulled back in a bun, adorned with clips to keep the stray pieces from falling out. Your black dress was nicely pressed and you wore heels. You hated heels.

Why were you wearing heels?

You flung them across the room with a flick of your ankle and slowly wiggled your toes as you felt the hard flooring underfoot. You slowly moved around the room, your body moving to music only you could hear. You pointed your toes while your arms reflexively moving into different dance positions from years of practice. You started with third position before moving to fifth with the added flair of a jump.

When you landed safely on the ground you couldn’t help but laugh before taking off all over again. Your arms moved with your feet as you performed and jumped , grand jeté turned to switch leaps turned to splits. one after the other as if you were trying to fly away and maybe you were.

There was nobody left to care for you with Billy gone and no family left to speak. You had heard them whispering that you were better off without Russo, that he was a killer or that he was crazy. There was also someone else out there better for you, but you didn’t want anyone else. You just wanted Billy back.

You threw your head back with the next jump imagining the violins singing as the song started to reach the climax. You felt the hair tie snap with the sudden movement as your hair cascaded around you, but you didn’t let that stop you.

Another spin. Another jump. You were a mess. Your hair flying around you, your hair clips littering the floor and your panty hosed feet sliding around you, a hole already appearing in the toe.

You stopped talking to your friends after they tried to explain to you how wrong Billy was for you, as if they couldn’t see how ingrained to you he was, how without him you couldn’t breathe. To them he was just another guy who had walked out on his girlfriend, but to you he was the love of your life, your family. He made sure of that before he disappeared.

Suddenly you stop.

Billy.

Charming. Beautiful. Protective Billy.

Billy who held your hand whenever you walked side by side because he craved your touch.

The guy who gave you the biggest bouquet of flowers after every recital.

Billy who shielded your eyes and wrapped his arms around you when you got scared during horror night, because he wanted to protect you from everything, even shitty movies.

The guy who gave you goosebumps the moment he touched you.

Billy who calls you out when you were being stubborn and unreasonable.

The man who took your breath away just by existing, who’s mere lips left you breathless.

Billy who didn’t back down when you yelled at him because you thought you knew best.

The guy who held you when you thought you were all alone, that nobody would ever love you because your family had abandoned you and you were use to people leaving.

The way he kissed you the moment those words left your mouth, shutting you up, and his hands roamed over your face, your hair, trying to reassure you that he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere.

_‘Don’t ever say you’re alone again,’_  he growled, his forehead pressed against yours.  _‘You have me, I have you, we are no longer alone as long as we have each other.’_

Except he was gone and you were alone.

You remember the ring he put on your finger, the words he didn’t have to say because you could see it in his eyes. Then you were kissing again because you loved him, he was your family, your everything.

Your fiancé.

Just the thought of that had your head spinning, your hands clawing at your chest as you found it hard to breath, like your heart was trying to burst from your chest. It was like losing Billy all over again.

You shook your head. No, it wasn’t going to come to that. He wasn’t dead, no matter how many people tried to convince you otherwise. Nobody was going to take away your hope, no matter how small.

You started spinning. You right leg kicking out to give you the added momentum you needed to complete the turn before touching your other leg to help with balance. You arms moved with your legs, the memory of a pirouette ingrained in your muscles from years of classes. So you spun, hoping your problems would spin away too.

Your dress fanned around you, your hair whirled with you though it stuck to your face from the tears that were slipping down your face. When did you start crying?

Three rotations. You weren’t alone

Five rotations. Billy wasn’t gone.

On the eighth rotation your foot slides out from under you and you were suddenly falling. Falling into darkness. Falling into despair. Then you hit the floor. You stayed like that, curled up as the sobs rocked your fragile frame as everything you told yourself wasn’t coming true. You were very, very much alone.


End file.
